


budding affection

by akumatised (emeraldine)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (as usual), F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Marichat May, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Adrien Agreste, Prompt: flowers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, as you can see im extremely late, just fluff, nothing else really, pining!adrien, pining!chat, theres no ladrien in this whoops soz, this was meant to be for day 16....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldine/pseuds/akumatised
Summary: "A few days later, there came not one, but three flowers. These came with a little card, tucked by the corner into the strand of blue velvet ribbon holding the whole package together. She tried not to notice the branding - this particular florist was not cheap - but couldn’t help the questions that entered her mind. What 17 year old had the money to go out of their way to get flowers like this from one of the most expensive florists in town, more than once? And for her? And why weren’t they making themselves known?The note held no answers to those questions, but the handwriting definitely sent the wheels in her head turning. She recognised that small, cursive script.. But from where?“a symbol of my budding affection for you.”Her head fell into her hands and a sound somewhere between a snort and a groan left her at the pun. Great; whoever was interested in her seemed to be a regular old Chat Noir.Wonderful."Someone's been buying Marinette flowers. Finding out who is far easier than expected, but the answer leaves her even more lost. What does Chat Noir want with Marinette Dupain-Cheng?





	budding affection

**Author's Note:**

> so this was intended for marichat may day 16.................  
> I'm only 9 days late ?
> 
> lmao pls enjoy this little* (*25 page, 11000 -word) oneshot that's honestly fluffier than fairy floss.

It had started with a single carnation.

She’d walked into class expecting nothing but a normal day, but instead found a small cluster of people around her desk, chatting amongst themselves over.. what, she had no clue. But it was pretty fair to say she hadn’t anticipated weaving through the small crowd and spotting a delicate peach-toned bloom on her desk, accompanied by no note or letter of explanation, only a small flag stuck to the stem, with her initials and a tiny, tiny heart written on it.

“Wh.. Huh?”

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Marinette!” Rose exclaimed, barely able to keep the glee out of her voice and face. Those around her wore similar expressions of intrigue, amusement and excitement, but as she asked each one if anybody had a clue who’d given her the gift, no one had an answer.

“Huh. Alright then..”

She resolved to keep the flower with her the most practical way she could, taking out her two pigtails and rearranging her hair into a sweeping half-up do and tucking the flower into a little niche just beside her ear and fringe. She hoped that whoever it was that had left the gift would appreciate that, but had no real way of knowing if they’d even see it at this point, since nobody had any clue if the giver was in their class.

Of course, if she or anyone else had seen the way her favourite blond’s mouth fell open and heard the way his breath left his body as he entered the room and spotted her, the mystery probably would’ve been solved almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

It had started with a single carnation.

At the time, he hadn’t exactly anticipated this being the _start_ of anything, or the catalyst to a few months’ worth of wooing; it had been a spur of the moment decision upon passing a flower shop and spotting a beautiful arrangement of warm peach and coral-toned flowers, most of which he couldn’t put names to. He found himself entering the store without even knowing why and making a beeline for the sorts of flowers that matched the display in the window. When he reached the clusters of carnations, her name flew into his head, and all at once he knew why he’d entered the store.

_Marinette._

Her favourite colour, everyone knew, was baby pink, and there were tons of flowers of the perfect shade throughout the shop, and yet even as he realised he was here to buy her a flower he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from the rich, warm shades that had brought him here to begin with. Somehow, they screamed her name to him far more than the pale pink she so loved - probably (definitely) because the colour made him feel.. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It felt like the way Marinette had always treated everyone around her. It felt like the welcome he’d received from herself and her family any and every time he’d been in her house. It felt the same way he’d felt when he spotted that family photo on the bookshelf in her living room. It felt like comfort, and acceptance, and everything he’d been missing since he lost his mother.

He grabbed a single carnation (-extravagant though he was, a whole bouquet out of nowhere seemed a little _too_ ostentatious-) and paid without a moment’s hesitation, trying to hide his smile when asked if it was a gift for a love interest, and checked his watch to discover he had just enough time to transform, rush over to school, plant the flower (pun not intended) on her desk, slip out through the window and come back into class as Adrien pretty much on time. He probably wouldn’t quite catch her initial reaction assuming she too was on time, but hopefully there’d still be talk of it by the time he reached the classroom.

Apparently he’d timed things perfectly; although he did, as he guessed, miss her first reaction, he did make it in time to see her take her hair out and rearrange it to tuck the flower behind her ear. He tried to reel in his reaction - oh, did he try - but it was fruitless. He was found by Nino a few seconds later, slack-jawed, bright red and unable to speak.

“Dude, you okay?”

Needless to say, he wasn’t okay.

So you can imagine how much less okay he was the next day when she showed up to school in a peach-coloured jumpsuit, hair down in loose curls and - was that peach eyeshadow???

There was no way he was going to survive this.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, there came not one, but three flowers. Roses, though not the typical kind. Each was some variation on a pale peachy-pink colour, but the most interesting thing about them was that they were mottled and striped with traces of a brilliant red, and they were quite possibly the most beautiful flowers she’d ever seen. Each had its own unique patterns and markings, as if red dye had been thrown onto a few simple pink flowers, turning them into something far more magical.

These came with a little card, tucked by the corner into the strand of blue velvet ribbon holding the whole package together. She tried not to notice the branding - this particular florist was _not_ cheap - but couldn’t help the questions that entered her mind. What 17 year old had the money to go out of their way to get flowers like this from one of the most expensive florists in town, more than once? And for her? And why weren’t they making themselves known?

The note held no answers to those questions, but the handwriting definitely sent the wheels in her head turning. She recognised that small, cursive script.. But from where?

_“a symbol of my budding affection for you.”_

Her head fell into her hands and a sound somewhere between a snort and a groan left her at the pun. _Great; whoever this is is a regular Chat Noir. Wonderful._

Still, she couldn’t deny the beauty of the gift. Whoever it was that was pursuing her clearly had an eye for taste, and clearly was rather smitten with her. Which was.. a new thing for her.

“What do you mean, new?”

Alya, apparently, didn’t agree.

“I just mean I’m not used to being liked, you know? Like, I know Nathanäel did for a second there, but..”

“Uh, yeah, Nathanäel did, and Nino did, and so did probably every other person in this class at some point. Were you not aware of that?”

“What? No, they didn’t!”

“Babe, I’ll literally prove it to you right now.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not necessa-”

“Hey guys!” Alya called out to the quickly-emptying classroom of students who were all getting ready to head home. “Quick poll. Raise your hand if you’ve ever had a crush on Marinette.”

“Oh, Alya-”

She stopped short. Several more hands were raised than she’d actually expected. Still, the number wasn’t huge- they were only a small class and not everyone was there at that moment- but of those that were, Kim, Nathanäel, Nino, Alix and even _Sabrina_ (though only timidly and fleetingly as she followed Chloé out of the room) confirmed Alya’s suspicions.

“Wait, really?”

Kim shrugged. “At one point, yeah. I mean, you’re cute, you’re nice.. Why not, you know?”

“Huh. How did I not realise?”

“Because your crush on Adrien literally makes you blind to the entire world around you”, Alix replied, smirking when Marinette’s cheeks darkened.

“Oh. Well, uh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“See what I mean?” Alya asked.

“This doesn’t help me narrow down who it is though!” Marinette complained.

“This is true”, Alya agreed with a frown. “Okay, theories!” she proclaimed, picking up her bag to leave the room. “What do we know so far.”

“Nothing. He- okay, _they_ , I guess, but I’m pretty sure it’s a guy- likes puns and pickup lines, and either doesn’t know my favourite colour or has been picking red and peachy colours for a particular reason. Other than that, it’s really too early to gather anything.”

“Okay, well, we know Chat Noir likes puns, but unless you’re holding out on me, you two barely know each other, and I still firmly believe he’s in love with Ladybug, so it’s probably not him… Oh! _Oh my gosh! Marinette!!!!_ ”

By this point she was whispering, as if she’d uncovered the secret, and her wide eyes furthered that impression. “You know who else likes puns?”

“No, who?”

“ _Adrien!!_ ”

“What? No he doesn’t!”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember the knight akuma? When that whole thing was over he came back and said he’d been turned into a knight, and then, and I quote: “what a knightmare!” Need I say more?”

“Wow. Okay, apparently I missed that. Yikes. But Adrien doesn’t like _me_! He didn’t put his hand up just then!”

“He wasn’t even in the room”, Alya deadpanned. “Besides, he doesn’t seem like the type to tell someone he liked them unless he was asking them out. No, if he’d been in the room for that and he’d ever liked you, _or did now_ , there’s no way he’d want to say so in front of the entire class. He’s way more the type to do the whole secret admirer thing, and I’m not even just saying that because it could be him now. Think about it.”

“But.. But Adrien knows my favourite colour, I’m pretty sure!” She tried protesting.

“Okay, now you’re just grasping at straws. Clearly the whole peach thing is for a reason. Look, Marinette, all I’m saying is that it _could_ happen!”

They’d reached the doorway now, and Marinette made sure to cast a quick glance out into the hallway before speaking. “Alya, I don’t want to get my hopes up. Can we drop him as a suspect, please?”

Alya sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop bringing him up.”

“That’s not the same thing…” Marinette countered.

“Marinette, you know me!” Alya persisted. “Once I’ve got a theory in my head, I can’t let it go until it’s proven wrong or right! And this seems plausible! But I promise, I _will_ keep my theories about Adrien to myself until I know for sure.”

Marinette sighed. “Okay, fine. Can we drop this whole subject now? It’s still too weird for me to wrap my head around.”

“The whole class just proved to you that the idea of someone liking you is not even slightly absurd”, Alya laughed. “Besides, haven’t you wanted a certain _someone_ to like you for ages? Finding out it was him would be a dream come true!”

“Yeah, and finding out it wasn’t after getting my hopes up would kill. I don’t want that. Besides, even if it was him, what would we even.. What next? You know? It’s too scary.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll reveal themselves soon enough”, Alya said, rubbing Marinette’s shoulder. “And you can cross that bridge when you get to it. For now, though..” She looked her in the eye, firmly holding her gaze. “Stop. Worrying!”

“Ugh, okay! I’ll try!”

“Good! Now, I gotta run, but I’ll see you tomorrow babe!”

“Bye!”

Marinette sighed as she made her way home, cradling the flowers close to her. _I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee I’ll succeed._

 

* * *

 

Adrien’s head was reeling.

Of course, he knew that somebody would probably suspect him of being the one to have sent Marinette those flowers, (especially if what Nino had said about him being the most transparent person in the world was true) but actually hearing Alya explore that theory had left him completely at a loss as far as what his next move should be.

And then there were _Marinette’s_ words to consider…

He’d made his way out of the classroom as soon as their last period ended, grateful to have seen Marinette’s reaction this time but fully aware that there would be speculation to follow that he did _not_ want to be in the middle of. But he left the room forgetting that he wasn’t going to be picked up from school today, because his father had allowed him a day every week in which he could walk home or hang out with his friends. (Needless to say, that wouldn’t be happening this time.)

But loitering around the school grounds had actually worked out in his favour, allowing him to catch the tail end of a conversation between the object of his affections and Francois Dupont’s resident snooper.

“Can we drop him as a suspect, please?”

“Fine, I’ll stop bringing him up.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Marinette, you know me! Once I’ve got a theory in my head, I can’t let it go until it’s proven wrong or right! And _this_ seems plausible! But I promise, I _will_ keep my theories about Adrien to myself until I know for sure.”

Adrien could not have been more thankful to himself for staying hidden in that moment.

“Okay, fine. Can we just drop this whole subject now?”

Their voices were drifting further away by this point, and he couldn’t get closer if he wanted to still remain hidden. Besides, he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping anyway. This was a good time to let it go and leave.

“...wanted a certain someone to like you for ages? Finding out it was him would be a dream come true!”

_Dammit._

He couldn’t stop himself. He inched closer. He _had_ to know if they were still talking about him.

“Yeah, and finding out it wasn’t after getting my hopes up would kill. Besides, even if it was him… what next, you know?”

Okay, no. Time to go. He was never meant to hear any of this.

But he had. And now he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

Because what if they _had_ actually been been talking about him then? That would mean that Marinette..

That would mean that he’d been wasting his time for _two years_ , chasing somebody that never wanted him when someone he actually had a chance with was hoping he would notice her! Could something like that even happen to him? Sure, he had the bad luck for it, that much was obvious, and he’d been “liked” before in some sense of the word; it came with the territory of being ‘famous’.

But what if Marinette actually had a legitimate crush on him? On _him_?

The thought made him simultaneously giddy and terrified.

Because she was right (about whoever she was talking about).

If their feelings _were_ reciprocated, and both of them liked each other as he was now hoping, where would they even go from there? And how would they even make it known? Would he ask her out first and then make his feelings clear, or tell her how he felt with no questions attached, just so she knew and the ball was in her court? Should he start leaving clues with the flowers? Was the flower thing even a good idea to begin with? He hadn’t even really intended for it to be a _thing,_  it had just happened! Everywhere he went he’d see things that reminded him of her, usually flowers; and the hopeless romantic in him loved the idea of chasing her anonymously. But now it felt selfish. Now he knew that Marinette had legitimate, actual feelings for _someone_ , and had no clue whether that someone was the same person pursuing her now. That wasn’t fair on her! The only way to settle this would be to make it known who her secret admirer was, so she’d know whether or not she was being chased by the person she wanted.

But how?

 

* * *

 

She’d wanted to know. She had, honestly. Despite her fear, despite the inevitable ‘what then?’ moment; the curiosity was killing her.

(Fitting that a certain phrase about cats should spring to mind at this moment.)

If she’d spent just a few more minutes with the akuma victim, or with Alya afterward, or with the other reporters after that, she most likely wouldn’t have swung up to the rooftop opposite her balcony just in time to catch someone leaving something beside her collection of potted plants.

But she had.

A black leather-like suit, gleaming in the orange glow of the sunset (that, coincidentally, immediately reminded her of the first flowers she’d received) was the first thing she noticed about the guest on her property. The next was the flash of blue she saw as the pot he was holding was placed down beside her others. Then - as if the suit hadn’t made it obvious enough - he straightened up and turned so she could see his face and she knew.

She’d just caught Chat Noir; her partner; her suitor.

_Okay, wow._

_What???_

Chat Noir liked _Marinette_? Not Ladybug. Marinette.

_Huh?_

She waited in shadow until he’d gone, knowing that confronting him in the suit would absolutely complicate things even if he had figured her out (which she couldn’t help but suspect he had), then rushed over to examine the latest gift.

A Chinese blue wisteria bonsai.

Despite her immense (and I mean _immense_ ) confusion, there was no holding back the involuntary smile that graced her features instantly. It wasn’t as if it was a topic likely to come up in conversation, so she couldn’t imagine anyone knew, but she’d _always_ wanted her own blue wisteria. She couldn’t say why she loved the colour so much, but it reminded her of the sky and her own eyes.

Apparently Chat Noir could see the comparison too.

_“you may find this to be cornea than anything I’ve ever said before, and irispect your opinion completely. but I simply must say it: your eyes are positively wisterious.”_

Oh, how she wished she’d ignored the card.

 

* * *

 

It was pretty safe to say his next attempt was the least successful by a landslide.

He swung in through his classroom window exactly 15 minutes before first period was due to start, with the latest bouquet and pick-up line in hand..

And was met with the unamused face of the one and only Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Well, this is awkward.”

She merely raised an eyebrow in response.

“So I guess I’ve been made, huh?” he asked, hiding the day’s gift behind his back despite knowing she’d see it soon anyway, and feeling slightly idiotic while doing so.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

He sighed. “And I’m assuming you want to talk.”

She nodded. “Also correct. Now is too risky though, and I’m sure you’ve got places to be. So..”

She crossed the short distance between them, a coy smile settling onto her lips, and smirked up at him from beneath dark lashes. His throat suddenly felt arid.

“Come to my balcony after school today. You can try and woo me in person.”

He swallowed hard, nerves amplified. “I’m p-pretty confident in my wooing skills”, he replied hoarsely.

(Which probably would’ve had the desired effect, without the shortness of breath and the stuttering.)

She backed away, smirk only growing. “Hmm.” Then she pivoted on one foot and began to walk away, stopping when she reached the door to turn her smug grin back on him.

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

According to Alya, she’d been acting weird all day.

Unsurprising, really, considering the circumstances.

She’d caught the sidelong hazel-eyed gaze of her best friend several times over the course of the day, and could feel the suspicion ooozing off her, which really didn’t help matters.

But what was she supposed to say? ‘Hey, Alya, so if you’re wondering why I’m so jumpy and weird today- well, you were right about my “secret admirer”. Not Adrien though; _Chat Noir_. Yes, it’s true, a real life superhero; interested in me! And it gets better: I basically give him an invitation - no, not basically; I literally did - to come over tonight and sweep me off my feet! I think I’ve literally gone insane at this point. So yeah, I’m acting a little strange.’

Yeah, didn’t have the best ring to it.

Unfortunately, she could only deflect so many times, and she could only dodge so many bullets. And today, Paris seemed intent on throwing as many bullets at her as it could.

“Hey, Alya! Loved your latest post on the Ladyblog! I _totally_ ship Chat Noir and Ladybug too!”

_Bullets like that._

“Thanks, Rose! I swear, they **have** to be secretly dating! Don’t you guys agree?”

 _Well_ _this_ _is bad._

“I mean, I guess”, Nino, the first to respond, answered nonchalantly. “Never really occurred to me to notice, although he does flirt with her all the time.”

“Yeah, but he flirts with everyone”, Marinette said, before thinking better of it.

Four pairs of eyes flicked over to her and she froze. _Shit._

“Really? You think so?” Alya asked, looking both confused and curious. “Honestly I haven’t seen him flirt with anyone else. But then again, you did mention after the whole Evillustrator thing that he spent a _lot_ of that time trying to impress you.”

That seemed to stand out for some unknown reason to Adrien, who before had only partially been paying attention, but now turned completely in his seat to face her. “Did he really?” he asked, amused. Marinette couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her.

“Are you kidding? He never stopped! Had this whole knight in shining armour complex, like I was some damsel who needed rescuing- he even called me Princess! Never mind the fact that I did half the work with that akuma. And the puns! Oh, God, the puns!”

The small group around her laughed at her theatrics, but Adrien seemed.. concerned, perhaps? He looked at her with one eyebrow raised and an expression she couldn’t put a name to. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s just.. Did it bother you? The whole damsel in distress thing? I doubt he was trying to be misogynistic, but I’m sure he’d hate for you to have taken it that way, a-and been annoyed at him as a result.”

Marinette couldn’t help but peer curiously at Adrien for a moment, confused. Why the curiosity?

Instead of asking, she shrugged it off. “Nah, no hard feelings. He’s.. a bit theatrical at times, but I think I get why, and I’m pretty sure the way he jokes isn’t the way he actually thinks. Yeah, I’m just a civilian, so of course I needed protection, but I don’t think he sees women as being weaker or anything - the way he treats Ladybug is a clear testament to his respect for women. Besides, I don’t think I could hate that tomcat for anything.”

Once again, her words had landed her an unexpected amount of scrutiny. “What does _that_ mean?” Alya asked, a curious lilt to her voice that Marinette couldn’t understand the reason for, but, all the same, still made her feel as though she was being teased. Like she was the punchline of a joke she didn’t get.

She was never a fan of that feeling.

“What does what mean?” she asked.

“You could never hate him? Not to mention- _tomcat?_  Don’t tell me you’re on a nickname basis with Chat Noir and you never told me!”

“Well, I just-”

The amused faces around her only increased her irritation. “What are you implying, exactly?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing!” Alya responded, feigning innocence. “I just.. find it odd that you, as far as I know, haven’t had a one on one with Chat Noir since Evillustrator, and now over a year later you’re giving him nicknames and talking so fondly about him and challenging my theory that he’s dating Ladybug...”

“Yeah, kinda sounds like you’ve got a thing for the guy!” Nino interjected, smile teasing.

“Wha- I don’t-”

“Hey, there’s no harm in admitting it!” Alya chimed in again. “He _is_ a superhero. We’d all be lying if we said we’d never had a crush on him or Ladybug. It’s normal! Besides, he goes around in _skintight black leather._  Believe me, _no one_ would blame you for wanting to tap that, girl.”

“Alya!” Marinette cried in disbelief and indignation, red-hot embarrassment already blooming across her cheeks. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Come on, girl, we’re just teasing”, Alya laughed.

Marinette groaned, burying her burning face behind her arms on her desk. “Yeah, yeah”, she grumbled in response, too mortified and grumpy to form a reply any more witty. She knew Alya was only joking, but now the insinuation was out there, and it, coupled with her less than redeeming reaction, were likely to have her friends thinking and unlikely to be forgotten.

The worst part about the whole thing, though, wasn’t the fact that any denial would be rendered useless.

The worst part was that she wasn’t sure if she’d believe her own objections.

And that terrified her.

For perhaps the millionth time since the revelation that had come the night before she wished it was anyone other than Chat Noir who had fallen for her. Of everyone in Paris, it was he that had the most potential to be hurt by her, as both Marinette and Ladybug, and she hated the thought of hurting him.

But also because of everyone in Paris, only he had the potential to make her take her focus off Adrien for even one second. And that thought terrified her.

In the three or so years since she’d met the blonde classmate she held so dear to her heart, not once had another boy entered her mind in a romantic context.

Except, on occasion, Chat.

And this whole blasted flower thing had only amplified and increased those previously random and intermittent thoughts! And as she’d paced her room the night before thinking everything over, having to really decide whether or not she could actually see herself with him…

To her shock, the answer had been an effortless and immediate ‘yes’.

 

* * *

 

Adrien was completely and totally screwed.

Of course, he’d known this the minute he’d started pursuing probably the most mysterious, enigmatic girl in all of Paris (like- she could rival _Ladybug’s_ air of mystery), but when this had all started there was no way he could’ve predicted.. well, any of it.

Her figuring out it was him so early? On the _wrong_ side of his mask? (And how had she even managed that, anyway?) Wasn’t a probability he’d considered. Her being so flirtatious towards him when she caught him out before class? Definitely hadn’t factored in that variable. Her _inviting him over_ to-

Well, to what, he didn’t really know. But it was safe to say he’d _never_ expected that.

But he could handle all those things. They were shocking, yes, but all of them had happened when he was Chat, so he could react without suspicion and then process later.

But _this_?

Oh man.

The way she’d talked about him.. She hadn’t elaborated on what she meant by “I think I get him”, but he felt like she probably did, anyway. She was such a wise, observant person; it wouldn’t surprise him at all to find she’d read right through all his bravado. And her mention of his respect for Ladybug had sent this feeling shooting through him that he couldn’t describe. Like she saw him and knew him completely, and had full faith that he was a decent guy, regardless of superhero status.

It made him wonder how she’d come to feel.. -no, think this way about him.

(He couldn’t use the word ‘feel’. It was too dangerous; too uncertain. He would never; _could_ never presume to know how she was feeling.)

But even their friends had taken notice of the way Marinette talked about him, and they didn't seem to think it was platonic either. Was it so crazy for him to hope that... maybe?

But now was no time to ponder that thought.

Not when he was (finally) mere metres away from Marinette’s balcony, and she was awaiting his visit.

He made his last jump, landing almost inaudibly beside the gift he’d given her on his last visit to this spot a few days ago, and found himself gazing at it.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point blue had become his favourite colour. It reminded him of the sky, of his partner’s eyes, of his classmates eyes; of his favourite scarf.

Which- of course. Of course that was when it’d become his favourite colour.

When he’d made a remark at some point after Christmas about the gift Marinette had given him, Alya had muttered something along the lines of “she signed the card this time, huh?” before clamping her mouth shut and instantly piquing his curiosity. At his insistent questioning, she told him the scarf he’d gotten for his birthday that year hadn’t been from his father, but from Marinette. Not only that, but she’d _made_ it. She’d taken the time to make something, just for him? Why would she do that? And why wouldn’t she tell him it was from her?

When he’d asked Alya those same questions, she’d smiled. “When we brought it to your house, Marinette didn’t realise until she’d already given it to your dad’s assistant that she’d never signed it. Then when you came to school the next day saying it was from your father, she was kinda confused, and a little bummed, but she chose not to tell you she’d made it. She didn’t want to burst your bubble- oh God, bad pun considering the akuma of the day- and destroy the happiness you felt at getting such a personal gift from your dad.” Then she’d shrugged, but the pride in her expression betrayed her. “She’s too good, that girl.”

Now, he’s realising that that had been the moment he’d begun to feel something beyond friendship for Marinette.

And could you really blame him?

A girl as sweet, selfless, intelligent, compassionate and purely bright as Marinette doing something so kind, so personal, for him; how could he not look at her with a new sort of admiration?

“Like the wisteria? Some alley cat gave me that.”

Barely stopping himself from jumping three metres in the air, Chat gasped, taken utterly by surprise. How long had she been there watching him as he stared (with what probably looked like a creepy amount of fondness) at a _tree_?

“P-Princess! I didn’t see you… there.” He trailed off as his eyes found her.

Lord help him, she was a vision.

She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking every bit like the nonchalant smooth operator he’d always tried to be. The only thing that belied that image was her outfit- jeans, fluffy pink socks and the slouchiest, most comfortable looking sweater he’d ever seen. Topped with the playful smirk she wore so well and her hair untied (which was enough in itself to send his stomach cartwheeling), the sight of her made him feel like he’d found the very image of domestic bliss.

“Are you done?” she asked, bringing him out of his reverie. Her voice and her mannerisms were meant, of course, to indicate indifference, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

“S-Sorry! I, uh..” He cleared his throat. “So, you, uh- you wanted to ask me some questions. A-About… this?”

She laughed softly, and the fluttering in his stomach intensified. “Yeah. I have.. a few. Do you want anything to eat or drink, though? I’m sure there are leftovers from today’s stock, and we just got the _best_ drinking chocolate, and- why are you smiling at me like that?”

Good lord, he was a mess. “Uh, nothing”, he responded hastily. “Hot chocolate and leftovers sounds kind of amazing, actually.”

She smiled. “Great. Any pastry preferences? I don’t know what we’ll still have left but I can try to get you something you like if I know what you like.”

 _You._ “Honestly, I don’t really get to eat sweets much, so I… don’t really know what I like?”

She gasped dramatically, drawing a hand to her chest. “You don’t get sweets? Tragic! Utterly tragic! That has gotta change, pal. Starting now.” She headed back inside, leaving him and her little balcony dining setting for two ( _convenient_ , he couldn’t help but think) to his own devices. Briefly he wondered if it had worked out for the better that she found out Chat was interested in her (although she’d no doubt be confused; the two of them haven’t interacted since Evillustrator, after all) rather than Adrien. Even despite the scarf and the Christmas hat, which were pretty personal gifts to make for someone you supposedly didn’t like, it always made more sense to him to assume her stuttering shyness around him was a bad sign, not a good one. Sometimes she actively avoided him! He honestly had no clue whether or not she would’ve extended this level of hospitality to Adrien. (Unless the possibility he’d considered of her having a crush on him was actually valid.)

Which brought him to an awful thought: if her friends were right earlier today, and she was interested in Chat Noir, that meant she _didn’t_ have a crush on Adrien, which meant she just didn’t like him as a person. But on the other hand, if the disjointed bits of conversation he’d overheard the other day _were_ actually meant to fit together like puzzle pieces, and the person she liked _was_ in fact Adrien, then there was the possibility that she could be disappointed right now, because Adrien wasn’t the one sending her flowers.

And then there was the far worse possibility that neither of those things were true, and she actually liked someone entirely different and this whole thing was pointless and-

“So! We’ve got a few plain croissants, a vanilla slice, a lemon tart and a peppermint slice. Pick your poiso-”

“LEMON TART! Oh but wait, peppermint slice! Oh my goooosh this is too hard!”

Marinette giggled, coming to sit beside him. “You know, you are welcome to try more than one. You could have both of those if you wanted to!”

“Really?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Really”, she assured with a grin. He eyed off every item on the plate, before making his final decision.

“I’m gonna go with the lemon tart. I’d probably love the peppermint slice, but.. I can recall my mother taking me out for a day once when I was young, and we stopped by a cafe on the way home where she let me have whatever I wanted. I picked icecream, of course, but she had me try some of her lemon tart and I loved it, so it’s really gotta be that.”

Her smile dropped, her expression laced with just a hint of curiosity and concern that he didn’t understand for a moment. But of course; most people didn’t know Chat Noir didn’t have a mother. Instead of prodding, she simply handed him a fork with a renewed smile and put his treat of choice on a plate of his own.

“Excellent choice, good sir”, she said with a giggle. “The lemon tarts are among my favourites.”

“Oh, were you planning on taking that one then?” he asks immediately. “You can-”

“No, don’t be ridiculous! You’re my guest! You can have whatever you like”, she insists. “Besides, I was torn between that or the mint slice too, so I was honestly happy to take whichever one you didn’t want.”

“A woman of good taste”, he responded, unable to hold back a grin. He broke off a small section of the tart, eagerly awaiting the nostalgia it would bring, and was not disappointed.

“And just like that I’m seven years old again”, he sighed, eyes closed as he savoured the taste and the memories that flooded back. Marinette simply watched him with a small smile, blue eyes alight with the glow of the setting sun. The sight made him feel like despite being the literal symbol of bad luck, he was the luckiest man in all of Paris to get to witness that.

She noticed the sunset right as he did, her eyes shifting from him to the view behind and her face taking on an awed expression that made his heart lurch.

She was _incandescent._

“I just love sunsets”, she gushed. “Look at those rays peeking out from behind that building! And the _colours_! The blue of the sky is so deep and the gold is so vibrant and the clouds are so fluffy and oh man, feel free to stop me at any time because once I start going on about sunsets it's almost impossible for me to stop!”

“It's fine”, he laughed. “Honestly, it's adorable.”

_Whoops. Wasn't meant to actually verbally say that..._

Her face reddened instantly. “You can't just say things like that so nonchalantly!” she cried, covering her face with her hands.

“Um.. whoops? Honestly I hadn't really meant to say it, but there's no filter between this brain and this mouth. And it's true; nothing makes me happier than to hear people talk about things they love.”

_Plus, the sun’s reflected in your eyes and it's so beautiful I could cry._

“Well, thank you”, she said shyly, removing her hands from her still-pink cheeks and rewarding him with a timid smile.

Why couldn't Adrien ever get this kind of reaction out of her?

He’d have to carefully ask Nino about that; see if he had any theories.

“I hope you know I haven't forgotten about my questions”, Marinette said, cutting into his thoughts.

He looked over, feeling his cheeks begin to warm at the sight of her smirk, and sighed. “I know. Feel free to ask whatever you want to know, although obviously identities are off the table. But you gotta promise not to laugh if I say something sappy and embarrassing!”

“You have my word”, she replied, smiling cheekily. “So, I’ll get the obvious one out of the way first: why me? I mean, Chat Noir hardly knows me. And we essentially haven’t interacted since our first meeting almost a year ago. So either you know me behind the mask - and I’m not prying, by saying that, just theorising - or… I don’t know. A year is an awfully long time to remember a random girl from a random akuma attack, and somehow have enough knowledge on her school and home life to be able to send her things to both locations. And I’m pretty sure you’re not a stalker. So…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“Yeah, I can see how the idea of a superhero you essentially have no connection with randomly sending you flowers could come off as incredibly creepy... so I’m glad you’re smart enough to put the pieces together. And you guessed it: the guy under this mask knows you pretty well. And honestly, I was never planning for you to find out it was me- that is, Chat Noir me- sending you things; I’d always planned to eventually tell you as him, or lead to you the conclusion that it was him. And then you figured out all on your own that it was _this_ me and, well, I knew there’d be some explanation required. But there you have it: we know each other. From somewhere.”

Marinette smiled. “I had a feeling, but it’s always nice to be proven right. But I’m curious: how _did_ you actually end up.. you know..”

“Liking you?” he prompted.

“Yeah”, she replied, bashful. “Without identity-related specifics, of course.”

“Well, it all started something like four months ago. We’d been friends for a while, but it was more like acquaintances; we didn’t know each other all that well. But I found out through someone else that you had once done something really sweet and really thoughtful for me, but kept it to yourself for reasons that were even kinder and more selfless than the thing itself was, and although I’d always liked you as a person and admired you, that thing caused the way I looked at you to change. I already knew there was so much to like about you, but finding out that you would dedicate your time and energy toward doing something really nice for me, a guy you only knew on a semi-friendly level, it just.. it had me thinking about you far more than I had before. It took another month or so for me to even identify what that change of heart actually was; not just appreciation but actual interest. And I toyed with the idea of asking you out for what felt like forever but had never come to a decision, until I saw those first flowers and had practically bought one and left the shop before I even realised what I was intending to do. And things just escalated from there.”

She hummed in response, trying to hide her curiosity. He couldn’t help but laugh; she was an open book and they both knew it.

“I can see the wheels turning”, he remarked. “You know you’re not supposed to, so you’re trying not to, but a part of you can’t help but fixate on the bits of information I’ve given you.”

She groaned. “Am I really that transparent?”

“Well.. yeah.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she sighed. “I have another question, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away”, he responded with a smile.

“Well.. I couldn’t help but notice that two out of three times you’ve given me peach coloured flowers, and I was wondering if there was a significance to that..”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “‘Why me?’ and ‘why peach?’ are your questions of choice?”

She shushed him, blushing, but it only amused him further. “Oh, you make me laugh. But if you want to know… Well, you know how I said that the first time my brain had barely even caught up to my body by the time I’d picked out the one? I didn’t know I was going to stop and take notice of the flowers in the window; I don’t typically. And I didn’t know that I was going to go inside, or why I ended up doing it. Then I was surrounded by all of these warm, bright colours, and.. I don’t know, you just sprang to mind. You’re always so friendly and inviting and inclusive with everyone and you have this light to you.. I don’t know. It just.. represents you in my head. Does that even make sense?”

He looked over at her lack of response, sure he must have sounded like an utter idiot, but was met with a wide-eyed stare and cheeks the exact colour he’d been trying to describe. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to such a blatant gaze, but found himself so entranced by the deepening of her blush and the indecipherable emotion in those blue, blue eyes that his throat closed up, leaving him speechless and staring just like her. The atmosphere seemed to shift, (but then, that could’ve just been him) but right as he began to draw closer, she spoke, snapping the tension.

“Holy crap. I thought _I_ was a hopeless romantic.”

He found himself laughing, and shrugged sheepishly in response as Marinette giggled beside him.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised, though”, she said. “I mean, with pickup lines like yours, how could you not be?”

He laughed. “Princess, you make me sound like some sort of ladies’ man! I don’t spend all my days wooing every pretty girl I see, you know.”

He spoke with his usual flamboyant, joking airs, but internally, he was nervously awaiting her response. Given the “he flirts with everyone” line he’d heard at school that day, he couldn’t be sure that she didn’t actually think that way of him.

“Are you saying I’m special?” she asked coyly, with a flirtatious smile and a hand on her cheek as she leaned in closer.

“Very”, he answered decisively, voice unexpectedly low.

The gleam in her eyes fell away instantly, replaced by the same unadulterated shock she’d been wearing only minutes earlier, while her teasing smile instead became a mouth fixed half-open in surprise. “Oh”, she whispered.

“I meant everything I said earlier”, he continued, gaze locked on hers. “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around when you don’t know who I am, but I really care about you, Marinette. I know I flirt a lot, because it’s fun, but honestly, other than Ladybug I’ve only ever done so with you. I don’t see the need to waste my time toying with the affections of people I’m not romantically interested in. My flirting with you means more than it might seem to.”

“And.. And Ladybug?” she asked, almost inaudibly, with something that looked suspiciously like hope in her eyes.

“Ladybug…” He sighed. “Ladybug was.. a dream. I had feelings for her for a long time, but eventually I realised it just wasn’t realistic. She’s so committed to the mission, and to keeping our identities and personal lives separate from the work we do fighting Hawkmoth, that I knew all my trying would only get me so far before she had to remind me, again, of the mission. Once I decided to make the mission my first priority, and to start trying to see Ladybug as more of a colleague than an unrequited love interest, it became easier to appreciate her without longing for her. And, coincidentally, not long later, the chain of events that led to me noticing you began. By the time I’d accepted that I was interested in you, well.. you’d been on my mind a lot more than Ladybug for a while. So,” he shrugged, “if you’re asking if I still have feelings for Ladybug, well, I’m always going to love her. But that love.. it’s different now. I wouldn’t be choosing to make my feelings known to you if I was still conflicted.”

She nodded slowly, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips, which were turned slightly upward in an almost unnoticeable smile.

“And you?” he dared to ask, eyes searching. “I heard through the grapevine that you have a crush on someone. And given that you were the first to point out that we barely know each other, odds are it’s not me. But, do I- do I have a chance, regardless?”

She held his gaze, smile lifting ever so slightly. “Keep up this whole wooing thing, and I’d say that’s a definite possibility.”

 

* * *

 

Once again, her words had come back to bite her.

She knew Chat would excel at ‘this whole wooing thing’, as she’d put it, but damn, he’d _vastly_ exceeded expectations. It’d been three weeks since she’d essentially given him permission to court her, for lack of a better word, and the flowers had continued, the balcony visits had continued, her parents had begun to notice a distinct increase in the number of pastries Marinette would choose to take when the bakery closed, and at school, home and everywhere in between there was a glow about her no one could miss, try as she might to conceal it. She was a girl being wooed, and successfully so.

But she’d come to realise something that made her uneasy.

All of this- Chat, essentially behaving like her boyfriend, herself pretty openly returning his advances… it was a means to an end, yet neither of them knew what that end was.

They were, on the surface, a superhero and a civilian, and he wasn’t supposed to share his identity with her. That was complicated enough, even without the fact that he apparently knew her outside of the suit and she, unbeknownst to him, often wore a suit of her own and fought crime right alongside him.

It was a veritable love square, and it would never not be this tangled and convoluted unless they put aside the (still very important) safety issue and revealed themselves to each other.

…Which was something he’d talked about a few times.

(And something she’d thought about more than a few times.)

Of course, she was no stranger to this whole script; Chat had asked Ladybug numerous times about whether or not she’d ever let him in, and each time her lines were the same. But as Marinette, she couldn’t play the safety card as convincingly.

Nor did she really want to.

She knew how selfish it was to want him to reveal his identity to her- there were a multitude of reasons it wasn’t fair to him, plus the fact that he’d feel like he was being unfair to Ladybug. And of course, _of course_ , realistically, if he _actually_ did reveal himself she would too, without question.. But that in itself opened up a whole new can of worms.

Because what if he thought she was being selfish by keeping her secret yet wanting to know his? By rejecting his advances on one side of the mask and embracing them as a civilian? By listening to him talk about his past feelings for Ladybug - for _being the one to ask_ \- and knowing full well that Ladybug herself was hearing his every word?

What if he was upset at her for that?

And what if he was right to be?

“You’re overthinking again, aren’t you?”

Marinette swiveled in her desk chair to face Tikki. _Thank God for Tikki._

Without the necessary context or safety to explain the whole situation to Alya or anyone else in her life, Marinette had seriously been on the brink of insanity at different points, questioning her choices and wondering if she should just come out and tell him. Without Tikki, undoubtedly the wisest woman aside from her mother Marinette would ever come across, she might have already ruined things for herself.

Nevertheless, she was sure she was right to torture herself for this. “Is it still called overthinking if it’s valid and logical and true?” she asked her kwami.

“Marinette, he’s not going to hate you if he finds out you’re Ladybug”, Tikki said immediately.

She groaned, pulling at her pigtails. “How can you be sure?”

“Well for one, he knows how much the safety of yourselves and your loved ones means to you, so there’s no way he’d expect you to drop those standards in order to give him the full picture the second he started paying attention to your civilian self. And honestly? I haven’t met him, but given everything you’ve said I think his first response before anything else will just be pure, unadulterated joy. He’d not going to be caught up in your supposed betrayal; he’s going to be thinking about the fact that the only two girls he’s ever had serious feelings for both feel the same way about him and are the same person. I think he’ll be over the moon!”

“And you don’t think it’s unwise for me to change my mind? About our identities, I mean?”

Tikki smiled at her holder. “This sort of thing has happened more than a few times, and every time one of my Ladybugs falls for her partner, I advise them to do what they really think is right, but ultimately, only they can decide. But my opinion in those scenarios is typically just as it is now: what you nd Chat Noir have right now couldn’t be better. You both care deeply for each other on both sides of the mask,and I have no doubt that a healthy and wonderful relationship could come from that. But holding onto your truth longer and longer will only make it harder for him to understand, which puts not only your romantic relationship but also your partnership in jeopardy. And your partnership is just about the most important factor here. If you’re at odds, you won’t work well together when you’re fighting akumas, and we both know that that’s not a scenario you want to find yourself in. So despite my caution in the beginning, I fully believe that revealing your identity to him is a good idea. You can deal with the fallout - if there even is any, which I doubt, considering how determined you’d both be to keep each other’s secrets to yourselves - if it ever comes to that. There’s no point worrying yourself into a panic now.”

“You’re so wise, Tikki. What would I do without you?”

The kwami chuckled. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’ll never have to find out”, she responded cheekily. However, she soon gasped, eyes widened in a way that worried Marinette.

“What is it, Tikki?”

“You haven't told Alya you found out it was Chat Noir that was interested in you, have you?”

“No, don't worry. I knew as soon as I found out it was him that if he ever revealed his identity to me, I'd never be able to date his civilian side because if Alya knew Chat liked me, essentially the whole world would know by extension. And suddenly being with whoever he is under the mask after already being revealed to have been dating Chat, well, people would put two and two together instantly.”

Tikki heaved a sigh of relief. “I knew I picked a wise charge in you”, she said with a smile.

“I do my best, Tikki. I do my best.”

“Isn't it interesting”, Tikki started, eyes shining with mirth, “that early on in your partnership you could never have seen Chat in that way, and only ever had eyes for Adrien. And now, here you are almost two years later, willing to not only choose not to be with Adrien but even to reveal your identity to Chat so the two of you can be together!”

Marinette rolled her eyes, cheeks reddening. “Ugh, I know. Can’t believe I fell for that cat. _And_ gave up any hope of being with Adrien! Are you sure I haven't gone completely mad, Tikki?”

The kwami’s grin only grew. “Not at all. You know exactly what I think about this, Marinette. I think it’s-”

“Rom _aaantic_?” Marinette imitated, gushing and fluttering her eyelids with all the airs of her classmate Rose. Tikki giggled beside her.

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

Ladybug was oddly distracted on patrol the next day.

Which, honestly, kind of wasn’t helping him in his attempts to start a _very serious and scary conversation with her_ , but was undeniably endearing all the same. She’d fluctuate between two distinct and warring emotions; nervous, worried trepidation, and.. _giddiness_.

Chat didn’t think he’s ever seen Ladybug _giddy_ about anything.

And, for reasons that escaped him, some of that exuberance was absolutely positively _somehow_ to do with _him_ , if all the dreamy, distracted smiles she’d thrown his way were any indication.

( _Could this not have happened when he_ **_wasn’t_ ** _choosing someone else over her?_ )

That thought was gone as soon as it had come. _Nope. Bad train of thought. No thanks._

Because wasn’t the whole point of choosing someone that you kept _choosing_ them? Even when your brain or heart betrayed you by clinging to the (very obvious) fact that someone else was looking your way?

Marinette was, and would always be, his choice. Adrien wasn’t the sort of guy to drop a good thing just because something seemingly better had come along. It would never matter whether or not Ladybug was “better” than Marinette (which, for the record, he didn’t believe for a second), because he had chosen Marinette, and there was a chance that Marinette _could_ choose _him_ , despite the mystery guy she apparently had had an interest in.

Which brought him to a troubling thought that he was clueless as to the meaning of: Marinette hadn’t talked about this crush of hers in weeks.

( _Was that good? Was she choosing him? Or was she sparing him the hurt of hearing about the one she’d rather be with?_ )

Adrien didn’t particularly like this line of thinking.

_Right. Back to trying to decode Ladybug’s weirdness._

“-You know, I was watching this documentary the other day, about-”

“Ladybug.”

She stopped short, full attention on him. Now was his chance. Except- “Wait. You watch documentaries?”

“Yeah, I love them! Paris is beautiful, but living in the heart of the city doesn’t allow for a whole lot of diversity in what it is we actually see. I don’t see mountains, rainforests, deserts; _anything_ from here! So I watch it from a screen.” She shrugged. “It’s the best I can do until I can one day afford to travel.”

He found himself smiling fondly at her passionate rambling, reminded, rather oddly, of Marinette. He wasn’t all that unsurprised to find another similarity between them, though.

It seemed he had a type.

“So, listen”, he started, attempting to steer them back on track, “I wanted to talk to you about something, and it’s.. kind of a big deal, so I really need your full attention.”

“Me too! Isn’t that funny?” At his frown, she straightened up. “Sir, yes sir”, she mocked with a salute.

He sighed. It felt like he’d been doing a _loooot_ of that today. “So… there’s this girl.”

_Odd._

Ladybug was _beaming_. “I know!” She blurted, before slapping her hands over her mouth.

Chat frowned. “How do you-”

“Not important! We’re getting away from the point, and you were so eager to tell me, so, just continue!” she said in a rush.

Huh. Weird.

“Um.. Well, this is the scary part. I r-really like her, like, a _lot_ , and she knows- she found out _Chat Noir_ likes her, though, not the guy under the mask. Which is kinda super problematic, because now if she decides she wants to be with me, well, she has to deal with the fact that she’ll only get to know the person under the mask if and when we finally take down Hawkmoth. And we have _no_ idea how long that could take, it could be _years_ ! And I want to be able to really be with her, without the obstacle of - this - in the way. I love being Chat Noir, but I don’t want to _just_ be Chat Noir when I’m with her. She doesn’t deserve all the secrecy.

So, I _knooooowww_ that you’re gonna say it’s not safe, I’d be putting her in danger, et cetera, et cetera, but she’s really good at staying out of the way of akuma attacks, and if anything, I think us being together would only make her _more_ inclined to keep herself safe- and she’d _never_ tell anyone about me, I know that wholeheartedly. She’d _never ever ever_ give up my identity to _anyone_ else. So…”

He signaled the end of his rambling with a hopeful look her way, but was instantly floored by the expression on her face. The fondest smile he’d ever seen, a hint of a blush, even…

She looked positively _lovestruck_.

( _What the hell does that mean? What am I supposed to make of that?_ )

Her next words, though, floored him more than her expression ever could have.

“You should do it.”

“Look, I know it’s a risk, bu- wait, what?”

“You should do it”, she repeated, smile growing. “It’s really clear how much you care for this girl, and I can’t think of a better way to show her you’re choosing her- which is _so romantic_ , by the way, oh my gosh- and if you trust that telling her wouldn’t affect either her safety or yours, then I believe you. And I support your decision.”

“W-Uh, I mean, really? You’re agreeing so easily?”

She merely nodded, that unbelievable, stupid, indecipherable smile  still on her face. _????!?!?!??!?!?!_

“But I feel like it’s not fair to you for someone else to know first; it contradicts everything I ever imagined about my first reveal.” _As if choosing to be with someone that wasn’t his Lady wasn’t shocking enough._ “I feel like it’s only fair for you to know first. You know?”

“I don’t mind, Chat. Really. It should be her first.”

“...Oooookaaayyyy… As long as you’re sure. And you’re not secretly mad at me.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “Trust me, it’s _fine_. In fact, I think it’s wonderful. I’m really happy about it, Chaton. Truly.”

This was way too good to be true, yet he could feel the sincerity radiating off her. He didn’t for the life of him understand why, but she was genuinely _overjoyed_ about this!

“Now, tell me all about her. No names, or anything incriminating, of course. Is she pretty? What’s she like? Have you kissed her yet?”

Chat felt a blush spread from his cheeks out over his entire face. _Ah, yes. That other terrifying first._

“Oh my gosh, you **haven’t**!”

 

* * *

 

If this had been hard to keep from Alya before, well, it was a lost cause now.

Marinette could _not. stop. fidgeting._

Because it was happening today.

_It was happening today._

_It was happening_ **_today_ ** _!!!_

_How could she keep her cool, knowing it-_

“Marinette!”

Alya was staring her down, wide-eyed and interrogative.

“Uh, yes?”

“Where the heck is your mind today? Is this the price I pay for you actually being early to school? This can’t just be tiredness.”

“It’s… not.”

Alya’s eyebrow lifted. “Wait. Did something happen with Mystery Boy?”

“More like.. Something is going to. Today. Very soon.”

Alya gaped. Her mouth opened and closed several times in an attempt to formulate a response. Marinette merely nodded, eyes as round as saucers.

Then her best friend squealed.

“How do you know? Do you know who he is yet? Is that the thing that’s happening? Oh my _gosh_!!!!!!”

“I know! I’m freaking the hell out! He’s going to tell me who he is and _Alya I’m freaking the hell out SEND HELP._ ”

“Why are you freaking out? I mean, I’m freaking out, but in a thrilled way. I can’t tell if you’re thrilled or terrified. So I repeat, _why are you freaking out_? This is amazing!”

“I know, but oh my gosh! You know? Like, I finally get to _know_ !” _After close to two years_ , she made sure not to add.

“How did this even happen? I need _all_ the details!”

“Well, we’ve kinda been.. communicating, in a way, over the past few weeks, so even without knowing who he was I’ve been getting to know him. And-”

“ _What_????” Alya interrupted, incredulous.

“You’re never going to get details if you interrupt me!”

She mimed zipping up her mouth, eyes wide and serious.

“Thank you. Anyway, he told me that he fell for me because he found out a few months ago that I once did something really kind for him, but I never told him it was me because I.. didn’t want the glory, maybe? I don’t know why I apparently kept it to myself, but I did, and apparently he didn’t think I even liked him as a person before he found out about it, so it made him see me in a different way. And whatever that thing was that I did or said or gave him… he said he’s going to make it obvious today, so I’d know who he was.”

Marinette hadn’t known it was possible for Alya’s eyes to widen even more, yet somehow they had. “Can I.. talk now?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

She squealed again.

“Marinette, that’s _so romantic_! Oh my gosh! And it totally sounds like I could be right, too, which is just- oh my gosh!”

“Right about what? One of your theories?”

“Yeah! Adrien!”

Marinette gave her friend a flat stare.

“No, I’m serious! Think about it! A thing you did for someone but never took credit for, kinda sounds like the scarf you made… Marinette?”

Marinette was gone. Like, her mind could have been on an entirely separate plane of existence for all she knew.

Because someone had just walked in wearing a _very familiar blue scarf_.”

She vaguely registered Alya’s repeated exclamations of “ _OH MY GOSH_ ”, beside her. Every memory of anything regarding that scarf or Chat’s clues flitted through her mind at hyperspeed.

“ _You’d done something really nice for me, but kept it to yourself for reasons even kinder than the thing itself_ ”; “ _Look how happy he is, believing the scarf is from his dad! I don’t wanna mess with that!_ ”. “ _What’s your favourite colour?_ ” “ _Blue. For.. many reasons._ ”

Could it be? Could Alya have actually been right all along?

The boy in question; the boy she’d once called the love of her life; her partner in crime-fighting; the boy who _liked her_ ; her best friend; caught her eye and grinned. He made his way over to her, and she to him, in a daze, barely registering their sudden proximity until all of a sudden their winter-bitten noses were almost touching.

“Hey, you look a little cold, Marinette. Picked a bad day not to bring a scarf! Here, you can wear mine.”

_Apparently I picked the best day of the year not to bring a scarf._

He placed the scarf around her neck with a smile, cheeks red. She was sure they matched hers, and sure neither of them were a result of the cold. “Hey, it matches your eyes almost perfectly”, he said into the small space between them, voice low. His expression was so fond, it required conscious effort for her not to go weak at the knees. _She_ had done that. To him. To Chat. To _Adrien._

_Chat. is Adrien._

His now unmistakably familiar green eyes were so, so full of admiration as he stared at her.

_How? Had she managed this?_

_How????????_

All the luck in the world was hers today.

His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in just a little closer. “Did you know blue is my favourite colour?”

She couldn’t help it. She surged forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in the folds of definitely-not-meant-for-crying-on _Gabriel_ exclusive sweater and jacket, tearing up despite her best attempts to prevent it and smiling so wide it hurt.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world”, she said, voice muffled by the chest her head was pressed against. He pushed her away by the shoulders to look at her properly.

“What was that, Princess?”

“I said”, she started, barely able to talk around the grin plastered on her face, “that I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

He gasped softly in the same sort of shocked amazement she’d probably worn every time Chat had complimented her, and yet again it took a concentrated effort not to swoon.

“And to think..” _Here was the final blow…_ “I’m not even wearing the suit right now.”

The second he figured out how to pick his jaw up off the floor, he (finally) kissed her.


End file.
